Theoretical future: Dreams in red
by PR Sceneman
Summary: My little exploration into the village hidden in the mist. How its coping with all the Missing Nin, the decay of the 7 shinobi swordsman and the reaction of the genin. Forewarning: OCs have to abound, folks. NOt much OcXnamed character though.
1. Chapter 1

How does one define a conversation when it does not involve the spoken word, just the suggestion of an exchange within the busy chaos of a persons mind? Labels are dangerous things and should not be used lightly. However, something that may very well be close to a conversation did occur at one point in the recent history of a certain individual and it is the duty of the chronicler to record it, regardless of its dubious nature. With that said, let us take a trip into the submerged darkness that is currently this girls' everything. Not black, but the deepest shades of blue, just the maddening little hint of colour that has become ingrained into her vision, the symbolical branding of her underwater hell. Seconds drag on like an eternity as the stabbing pain that she has come to associate with consciousness drags itself across her neck on its slow descent down her body. The clinging cold is momentarily kept at bay by the warmth of agony.

"_Is this…death?"_ her thoughts begin as they have for days, the question quickly lost to the consuming darkness. Again, it goes unanswered, but only for a time. There was no voice, but the knowledge that the words had been said became a red hot spear, consuming her thought processes

"_Of course it isn't, child"_

Even without the benefit of a voice to associate with the reply, the girl knew that it was condescending. She was not as desperate for company as one would expect and sorted through her limited memory of responses until eventually one came to light

"_Kill …Kill you"_

It was not long before the memory of a reply manifested itself

"_Why, child? Why kill yourself?"_

"_Want to kill…someone"_ Uncertainty clouded her thought and the girl focussed, trying to think of a face to match with the desire. Recollection failed to provide and she was forced to move on.

"_Kill you…Kill me…Just kill"_

"_If you put enough effort into it you can make me stop. Silence me. But you will know that you didn't kill me. It'll eat you up until you have nothing left."_

Anger added a few more options to the psyche.

"_You…Hate you…Burn…you"_

"_Keep that fire burning inside you. I may need to use it"_

Memory added colour to the darkness, the fading image of azure skies tipped with the light earthy tones of the cliffs, growing ever steeper, faster and faster as she plummeted with naught but the reflection of blue flames flickering in her eyes.. She was suddenly acutely aware of how alone she as.

"_Need…help"_

"_Do not worry child. My gifts will help you."_

"…_help?"_

"_What would I be if I did not help my child? Just a beast in a mask."_

Suddenly every nerve was red hot, probing for a word, any word, to fill the gap. Unfortunately, in its desperation it found one.

"…_Mother?"_

"_Let's Wake up together, Tsukiko"_

Light, burning neon brightness invaded every sense, sudden and unwanted. Every inch of her body cried out in pain, drowning the distant sound of voices. Then darkness overtook, uninterrupted by the pain of consciousness. Then, only the distant panic and crackling of fire remained.

Filled with a newfound purpose, Tsukiko dreamed.

------

"Damn it, Tsukiko, can't you show a little restraint?"

The mingling scents of dust and sweat were pretty much the norm for the small area of cleared Cliffside that so often substituted for an actual training area, but it always had that extra edge when Tsukiko was using it. Currently she was abusing the surrounding rock-face. It was clear that abusing was the right term, as the wall was covered in deep gashes and scars, forming a random criss-cross pattern which stretched across its entire length, the depth of the wounds betraying the extra taint of a sadistic showmanship, the kind of mindset which would translate into all kinds of interesting mutilation on the real battlefield. There was little doubt that it would be reduced to rubble under such pressure. This was likely Tsukikos' intention, as she would certainly like the little notch to add to her reputation. In reality she didn't need it, but those at the top of their game crave attention over anything else and Tsukiko Hoshikira was indeed at the top of her game. What she hadn't done was becoming exceedingly easy to turn into widely believed rumour. It was something to do and Tsukiko was always looking for something to do. If only within the confines of the Village hidden in the mist, she was the rising star, the genin among genin, effortlessly breaking records that had stood for years untouched. If you believed the endless hype that she was adept at generating.

"I don't need to, Kama. Restraint is a word that only works when it makes me look effortlessly powerful." All this said in tones which one might call mischievous were it not for Tsukiko's air of restrained violence.

Tsukiko stood out against the general uniformity of most mist village genin. Long pants, each leg split down the centre, one leg emblazoned with the letters GRU, what appeared to be the top half of a jacket and patterned bandages to cover the rest .Her headband was tied lazily around her left palm, her signature kunai concealed underneath it. The only concession to practicality was the standard side pack attached to her left leg, a pale white like the rest of her outfit. For anyone else it would be devilishly impractical but she rarely ran into any problems. The girl inside it all was hardly physically impressive, a slight figure, pronounced in enough ways to be attractive but not alluring, long black hair and a penetrating blue eyed stare. We're it not for her outfit she wouldn't stand out at all among the far more stoic genin of the mist, but the same could be said of the other two kunoichi present with her. The one referred to as "Kama" was lounging on a portable deckchair, a gaudy thing covered in a spray of mismatched colours, slowly devouring a small punnet of assorted berries. Those aspects of her personality not made obvious by the deck-chair were summed up nicely in the lazy action of tossing the small fruits into her mouth. Her attire was largely normal, save for her cloth robe worn lazily over a standard survival vest, the fabric covered in seals used primarily in warding off spirits. She wore a cap, the black brim strung over her eye. It was an odd shape and gaudy to a fault, expanding to a large flat peak, her headband sewn into the brim next to the letters GRU. A steel scythe lay at her side, the blade shaped like a serpentine head in a way that would no doubt impair the already low effectiveness of the eccentric weapon tenfold, but at least it explained the nickname. The girl had messed red hair and a soft face stained with the occasional remnants of juice. There's really nothing special to say about her figure, so those noblest (and commonest) of fiends, the perverted reader, shall have to do without for the moment. With barely a conscious thought, Ceyla Kitsuraiga tossed another berry towards her mouth.

It didn't make it there.

Much has been said about the effectiveness of needles in combat and, specifically, their general ineffectiveness at landing a killing blow. But they certainly had the benefit of speed and the process of one spearing the blue orb from Ceyla's hands, ricocheting off the rock wall, ricocheting of another needle which had been thrown almost immediately after the first, and landing in the outstretched hand of a pink haired kunoichi, the needle sliding through a crack in her fingers and leaving the sweet morsel behind, happened to fast for Ceyla to notice. It was debatable wether Tsukiko would have noticed it either, but at the time she was admiring her work on the wall and thinking of how she could play it off as something epic when asked what happened. Some kind of ogre would no doubt be involved.

"For the love of… La-fens!" Realization lead, predictably, to anger. Ceyla pointed accusingly at the perpetrator "What the hell are you doing?!"

"Eating." The pink haired girl wore a simple uniform, though with more pockets than one would think necessary. It seemed every inch of her uniform was devoted to thrown weapons and the occasional cross bow, her shuriken shaped more like bladed gears than the traditional four bladed design. As you have no doubt foreseen, she had the word GRU about her personage, tattooed on her left cheek. That cheek would have been met firmly with the less than amicable Ceyla's fist were it not for the fact that doing so would involve Ceyla getting up. Effort and comfort cannot coexist however and the girl remained sprawled on her chair, letting out little more than a grunt of irritation. Getting stuck with two egotistical show-offs like La-fens and Tsukiko was not what she had imagined her first genin team would be like. It could have been worse, admittedly, but this was the village hidden in the mist, so it was only a matter of time before it would be anyway. After all, they still had to be assigned to a jonin and Ceyla mused that it would be just like her father to assign her team the worst jonin possible, just to spite her. Spite was, it seemed the greatest recourse available to the mizukage. But at least there were some advantages to being paired with the two most proficient genin in the village. Tsukiko "Angel blood" Hoshikira and Levine "bombardier" La-fens. Under normal circumstances they would just been admired for their talents but they'd gotten bloody nicknames. Titles. It was the same story every time. Too many missing nin from the mist were running around these days. Even The legendary seven shinobi swordsmen were a joke, with most of the villages now having running bets on which will defect next. It was damn predictable who would be filling the vacancies too. Heroes in production, her father had told her once. The future, being pre- packaged as legends to help the laughingstock of the five great shinobi villages get back on its feet. Marketing the next generation of killers.

Ceyla wished she had a nickname as well.

She turned her attention to Tsukiko, who was now annotating a small book. Even that simple task looked dangerous in her hands. She had a habit of twitching at just the right moment to give her the illusion of constant movement. Tsukiko gave the impression that at, any moment in a friendly conversation, she would happily pull an elongated knife from the recesses of her sleaves and lob it at your face. Ceyla may have despised her fame, but there was something truly terrifying about that girl, though it may just have been the memory of her constant…outbursts. It would be wrong to call them violent. But any time when something got out of hand in class, or someone insulted her there would be this little metallic scraping sound, dulcet tones reverberating off the edge of steel and all eyes would turn to her as she penned a little extra note into her book. Whoever had caused a stir would quietly return to their seats and hope that the scar they had been left with wasn't noticeable. It usually wasn't. Tsukiko was very pedantic about aesthetics.

"Hey, La-fens!" Ceyla beckoned the girl to her side. Levine had the courtesy not to appear silently behind her in a display of atypical dickery, as was usually the case with any kind of high rank genin, but instead just walked over. Tsukiko probably would have tried to kick one of the large nearby rocks into powder in getting to her.

"Where is our umm… Jonin, Kitsuraiga-san?" Levine was completely formal when it suited her. All part of the mystique. She may have been quiet and studious but she was every bit as conceited as Tsukiko, Ceyla was certain of it.

"Who knows? Who cares? They'll come eventually." Ceyla said, wiping her face with her sleave to remove the excess juice. Secretly she was dreading meeting whoever father had cooked up. "Listen, is there going to be any trouble between you and Tsukiko, Miss 100? Competition, that kind of thing?"

Levine looked down in embarrassment. She was even pressing her index fingers together for the gods' sakes.

"Ummm, ah, Tsukiko-sama?" She was probably blushing as well. Ceyla hadn't bothered to look. Her voice was decidedly wispy, something that grated on Ceyla's nerves. "W-w-w-we aren't like that…"

There was a whole line of questioning that could have followed there, but Ceyla decided to avoid it entirely. They were obviously friends of some kind then. Makes sense in a way. Nothing worth questioning in that then.

It was then that the figure in black entered. An oddly plain outfit, it betrayed little about the wearers identity, but the headband was visible, as were a few long locks of blonde hair. A long sword hilt stuck out among the utter banality of what was otherwise a standard ANBU black ops uniform. The hood was an unnecessarily dramatic touch, but it was removed in due time to reveal the face of someone Ceyla knew very well. She groaned at the first sign of recognition.

"Is this…all?" Nothing better could be expected from Gentra Hentai. Ceyla waited patiently for the rest of the sentence, slowly but inevitably approaching.

"I left my work for this?" Every time without fail, someone would be distracting "the spear of the hidden mist". Her father must really believe in those two if he's already devoting one of the few Shinobi swordsman to be their Sensei. It was ridiculous.

"I'm tired. Introductions. Now." Gentra was certainly not lying about that, her eyes sunken and head drooped. It seemed she would fall asleep any second. It was something Ceyla had seen many times when with her father. Gentra may have been a xenophobic elitist but she was genuinely over worked.

Ceyla sighed and folded her chair up, knowing that she wouldn't be relaxing again for quite a while

------

"Name, goal that kind of thing. GO. now" Gentra held her head in her hands, clearly not wanting to face consciousness much longer. Her voice was breathy and harsh, advanced years beyond her body.

"Tsukiko Hoshikira, also known as 'Angel-blood'-"

"-Don't care" Gentra was clearly not in the mood for frivolity.

"…Fine." Tsukiko pouted but otherwise moved on. She got out her book and leafed through for a specific page. "Ah…. My goal is to find true love and the power needed to maintain it!" She struck a pose that probably meant something profound from the right angle, but to the three watching her just looked rather precarious. Gentra ended things quick with a lazily lobbed kunai, deflected effortlessly by a swift kick on behalf of Tsukiko. She was a showman but not an idiot and had more than a few steel reinforcements to her outfit.

"Perfect." The disdain in Gentras voice was almost palpable. "Next."

Levine stepped up to the plate next. Times may have changed but it still wasn't uncommon for a sensei to be more than a bit violent in order to encourage the students. She was still wrapped with the isea to be under the command of such an incredible shinobi. "L-Levine La-fens…I want to attain perfection of all my preferred jutsu and achieve the rank of-"

"Boring. Ceyla I know. What is your goal then?"

Ceyla brightened up. It was an odd, overpowering urge she had for a while. To find a motivation in life "To become Mizukage!"

Gentra stared at her blankly. Perfect. Just bloody perfect.

"That's enough. Tomorrow, training area next to the mizukage's office. You will be there at 6 AM for a test."

That was all that needed to be said, so she dropped a smoke bomb and disappeared. It wasn't as flashy as you'd think. This was often the effect that the clinging grey mist caused. It was depressing but realistic.


	2. Chapter 2: Obsession

OK, one thing here. Levine comes of as a bit of a hinata clone. I have spent some time making this update, making sure I was capable of going through with my plans for her and guess what? I haven't lost my personal flare for making characters absolutely bat shit insane in an awesome way. Seriously, she is like my old mainstay character, a homicidal ritual murderer with a thing for public mutilation, only on fire. She will kick through some guys face and you'll be completely unphased because she just immolated his child for kicks moments earlier. Gods bless the man who penned the phrase "deflowering by fire" in the ROD manga because otherwise we'd be stuck with a marksman bit character. Just wait till next update. Blood will be involved in a totally unpredictable (this is sarcasm people) way.

Also, Tsukiko will constantly run through nicknames for Levine relating to fire based supernatural beings many of which will be completely out of place. Gdon is a flaming tiger (a GIANT flaming tiger) which some god or other rides in Japanese mythology and Hinotama means flame spirit or fireball or something in Japanese. Also, tarresque is a monstrous turtle of some kind by the by. I've no idea if the japs made that one and I'm sure as hell not looking it up. But there's story down there. Read it.

-------

The streets of the village were, as ever, covered in an e white blanket of mist. That was always the problem inherent with living there. The blanket never left. It was an oppressive grey, a somber dullness slowly sucking the life out of everything. Perhaps rotting would be a better word, considering the source. Some could say it was the reason that so many of its residents went over the edge. Here you are, in this harsh little world that is your everything, unable to glimpse outside of the borders and then the world opens up to you in its entirety after years of grey. What a rush that must be, to escape that vast, clinging nothingness. One can only imagine it. But inside the village walls, it seems that the mist could go on forever, slowly suffocating their small patch of civilization. Within the labyrinthine pathways, high stone walls with the hint of red rooftops at the very edge of perception, Tsukiko and Levine wandered home together as they always did, Levine always trailing slightly behind Tsukiko at a slow pace. Tsukiko was slightly taller than you would expect and kept a brisk pace on top of that. If Ceyla was not constantly occupied judging people she might have picked up on this little relationship, but such things are often based on assumption rather than observation. Unsurprisingly, Tsukiko was writing in her little notebook.

"Eh, Gdon, what do you think of the phrase 'swathed in midnight'?" she said, looking critically at her own work.

"Uh…um…it doesn't really fit the situation, does it?" Levine hated criticizing Tsukiko's writing and looked down in shame. Tsukiko slapped her on the back jovially in order to get her out of the slump. Depression was an unnecessary distraction.

"You're right, you're right. Stop getting like this whenever I ask you something. It makes you terribly difficult to write for with all the pauses and indecision." Tsukiko smiled in a devilish way. It wasn't intentional; she just had rather villainous features. "Nice job with the uniforms though. I love the handicap it gives me. A real chance to prove myself as a master of the ninja arts. Stealth, grace, agility, technique…" Another note was made" I don't think that should go that long. Let's drop Technique. Or maybe grace…"

"Umm, Tsukiko? You know I-I made you the black one as well for a reason…" Tsukiko was lost in her writing. Something clicked. This was crunch time for Levine. Something she'd been thinking about for a while. Now may have been the best time to finally face reality. Because certain conventions must be applied to even with a crotchety young cynic like myself, the faintest hints of tears formed in the corners of her eyes. Some could say this was cute, a sign of purity and innocence. Realistically however, it was a manifestation of Levine's completely malleable personality, a sociopathic desire to do things because that's what was done in times like that.

Her resolve strengthened enough that she could open her mouth, Levine sighed in a defeated manner.

"I…I don't think I'm important enough to be in your story…"

Tsukiko didn't miss a beat, responding almost before Levine could finish "Don't be stupid, Gdon! You've got the most important role of all, as partner and equal to the next great legend of the world! You, the mysterious youth with the flickering flame of passion within her breast, the indomitable spark igniting your heart…Hang on" Tsukiko flipped a few pages in her book and began scribbling furiously. Levine blushed and bit at the back of her hand, a compulsive habit of hers whenever embarrassed. They walked in silence for a time, the only sound the scratching of Tsukiko's pen. Eventually they reached their destination, a run down Ramen shop identified as 'GO! Ramen!' by a decrepit sign hung from its walls. It was filled with steam, though this was hardly noticeable considering the location. In a distant sort of way the two ordered their meals and sat on the rather frayed bench provided.

"Umm…Tsukiko-sama…"

"Yeah, Gdon?"

"Ummm…Ah….Did you really mean what you said about your goal today?" Slight pangs of hope emanated from the voices wispy tones.

"No." Tsukiko didn't even look up. At least it was steamy, providing one half of a scenario that could well have taken place in this setting "I was just trying out the line. Didn't work though."

"Oh…." Deflation set in "do you-do you, uh, want to find love though?"

"Of course." Her lips curled into a much friendlier smile, the effort of softening her features almost visible "What kind of saga would lack romance?"

"I…don't know…" Levine resumed biting her hand, her constant embarrassment around Tsukiko failing to lift itself.

"You've got to open yourself up sometimes, Hinotama. Three years we've been here. It's not like they hate us because we're refugees or anything. You've just got to let loose."

"O-okay…Tsukiko-sama"

"You know I'll run out of ellipses if you don't, right?" Tsukiko chuckled at her own joke, Levine just looking down again. Then they waited in silence for their meals, golden tones corrupting the muted blanket.

It was unsurprising that, like everyday, the sunset was obscured. Was it really that much of a loss considering who was there to appreciate it?

-------

It was little more than a decaying concrete bowl, its purpose obscured by its rapid dilapidation. A ring of blank slabs, surrounded by scrub and decay .It would have been inaccessible were it not for a cracked, ivy covered slab, collapsed to the point where the inside arena could be entered with little trouble. There was grass and ruined pavement and, unsurprisingly, mist, a tranquil tableau shared by most stone ruins. Sufficed to say, it was not often used. Gentra was sitting on one of the larger boulders, one eye closed in a vain attempt to get some rest. In truth she was much better than she had been yesterday, but it was hard to get over a slump as big as the one she was in with one nights rest. Tsukiko came through the crack first, this time wearing a black version of the outfit she had worn yesterday, complete with a pattern of flames embossed on the cuffs. It earned points for being less impractical than the one she wore yesterday, at least. Levine trotted in behind her, head properly downcast. They gave Gentra little more than a nod and she treated them in kind.

"Kitsuraiga is late" Gentra said after a while. This was greeted by a scraping sound, metal on stone at lightning speeds and the appearance of Ceyla's trademark scythe head from the mists, followed by a long length of chain which ended in the girl herself, gliding lithely over the wall as she followed her chain scythe at almost justifiable speeds. The key word being almost, the weight of the passenger diminishing the chain scythes otherwise formidable speed. The fact that the scythe had propelled her on its own momentum probably meant that wasteful levels of chakra were involved.

"That's all three of you then" Gentra interjected quickly in order to avoid any further flashiness on Ceyla's part. Blocked from a one liner she had stood outside the arena several minutes to formulate before making her entrance, Ceyla pouted and took her place among her fellow genin.

"You're all here. Good. Now we begin a simple test. I will teach those who pass. Tsukiko, come here. Act as spotter."

"Uh, Okay, sensei" Tsukiko was for once at a loss for words. Gentra treated words like bullets, firing them out as fast as possible while taking care not to waste any.

"What's going on, Hentai-Sensei?" Ceyla winced at the use of her teacher's last name and the connotations it brought.

"Simple. Here's fellow genin Zan Tarresque."A figure stumbled out of the mist, a boy of small stature wearing standard genin attire and a shield on his arm in the shape of a spiked shell. He looked blankly at the girls, a hint of fear in his gaze.

"Kill him. Now."


	3. Chapter 3: Barricade

My first namedrop. Aren't you fellows excited. Just to clarify in PR scenemans amature mythology classics here, sati is a consort of someone or other, I think it was shiva, anyway she got burned alive or simmilar and Orthus was cerberus' brother. Tarrasque wa the correct spelling I've found. Anyway, enjoy cause there will be crazy flashbacks next update.

--------

Ceyla was red in the face. This was something that went straight to the heart and pulled out all the restraints. Zan just stood still, terrified.

"What the hell is this!?" she demanded, completely devoting her attention to Gentra, who was now joined by Tsukiko. It wasn't worth wondering how she got up there so fast.

"Its what it looks like. Zan happened to plan to defect and we caught him before he could. Now you kill him to see if you can. Simple."

"Umm, I-" Levine raised her hand (but not her head, gods damn it) to interject and was quickly shot down by a glare from Ceyla.

"Shut up la-fens. Then why the hell does Tsukiko sit out!"

"She has publicly known experience. I can…attest to her willingness in these matters. She gets in" Tsukiko looked smug but Ceyla could just tell her fathers hand was behind this in some way. Even if she did know about the 'execution' last year it still reeked of corruption.

"Can I-"

"Not now Sati" Tsukiko scolded, turning her attention to Kitsuraiga "What exactly is your complaint? Too weak willed to get a little blood on your hands?"

"Damn it, it's the principle of the thing! This is exactly the kind of barbaric crap that I'm trying to get rid of!"

"Is that going to do us any good? Pray tell Naga." Tsukiko just looked down from her post in disgust, unhappy with the sudden spew of self righteousness from Ceyla's maw. "A mocked beast still has his fangs. What do you hope to accomplish by removing our teeth one by one?"

"You!" Ceyla, foreseeing no future in an argument with Tsukiko, turned her attention back to Gentra, fury older than a spurt of the moment burst of anger tinting her white hot soul "You and your whole damn group keep dragging us back into this mist whenever we try to rise above it!"

"All we get by going higher is a nice big target slapped firmly upon our village-" Tsukiko was stopped midway into her spiel by Gentra, swinging her hand in front of Tsukiko's mouth in order to avoid wasting words.

"Kitsuraiga, you can drop the act. I can tell what's wrong here."

"Wha-what the hell are you talking about!" Ceyla was a bit taken aback by the sudden yet calm response, but Tsukiko didn't miss a beat and had already got out her pen and a book.

"Don't we all remember the last coup that attempted to end the life of your dear father? A friend of mine lead the movement and I seem to remember catching him, where was it now, oh yes, it was in your chambers. Do you remember now?" Gentra could be quite acidic when talking for any real length of time and looked personally offended, a tick of movement forming on her left cheek. Ceyla merely stood stunned, unable to work up the anger to say anything.

"Didn't he look a sight, with his zanbuto held just above your bed, stained with blood? Of course, he fled before striking a killing blow but you just happened to get a kunai in the chest from the encounter. Not a terrible wound by any stretch but it seems that you have taken it quite harshly. How sad for you. Shall we share a tear for our dear Kitsuraiga? Perhaps not." Gentra swung down from her perch and rushed up to Ceyla, lifting her by the scruff of her collar. For her part, the girl didn't put up much resistance.

"Some people weren't so lucky. I mentioned that blood for a reason. It takes a lot of corpses to cover something that huge with crimson. Though, knowing Zabuza…" familiarity tainted her voice. Perhaps something deeper but perhaps not. "…It wasn't worth much satisfaction. Hell, it's because of Zabuza that that people like you have a place to stand. You're living off of dead myths and pissy little vendettas. So what are you going to do about it? You can either run back home and complain like you always do or, here's a novel idea, you could get the fuck over it."

"Umm….I-"

"What the hell do you want La-fens?" Both Gentra and Kitsuraiga turned toward the pink haired genin with rage filled eyes.

"I'm getting tired of your over-inflated melodrama. If you don't mind I already killed him

Both gaped at the girl, perched atop the flaming corpse of the late Tarrasque. It was odd how the fire burnt silently, the twisting flames practically blood red, but it was more worrying how it seemed to consciously avoid the body of Levine herself. She stood with firelights dancing in her eyes and a knife dripping blood in her hands. Without seeming to move at all her hand leapt toward her mouth, giving her tongue access to its red covering. Tsukiko looked up from her book long enough to see this and immediately materialized in front of Levine, slapping the hand away.

"I told you not to do that Orthus!" She took the tone of a mother scolding her child "It doesn't fit with your character"

"But I'm just following the teachings of-"

"NO! You're just corrupting yourself with pale ghosts of the desires of others. DON'T DO IT."

"Sorry Tsukiko-sama…" I loath to write this but Levine sniffed looked to the ground in shame. It was something she had to do.

On the topic off her titular weapon, it was really just a common throwing knife but in Levine hands it seemed to glow with inner heat, inferno red painting a neon outline in the air, a picture of malformed desire left unfulfilled for far too long. Her breath had become heavy and seemed to reverberate over the distant concrete walls, louder than it should be, especially for the girl in question. Oddly, her arms hung low, verging on appearing dislocated.

"How… How could you Levine!" Ceyla was more indignant than confused at Levine's sudden revealed intent. "We didn't have to do this!"

"He was getting in the way of my ambition." She merely shrugged and put the knife back into the metallic recesses of her vest. "Besides, it wasn't really Zan."

As if on cue the corpse of the fallen genin shifted softly through the visual spectrum to become a balding overweight man, dressed as a civilian in the peasant villages which seemed to leech off of the capital might. He wore a steel band around his forehead covered in seals.

"Okay, what is this?" Ceyla had managed to work up some anger again "what the hell kind of trick is this?"

"The kind that would have worked." Gentra dropped Ceyla and put her hand to her head "we can't actually kill our own genin so we got a thief we'd caught recently and dolled him up with genjutsu. You learn a lesson, I see you have what it takes, everybody wins. Maybe if your idiot father had supplied two we would have learned if you did-" everything was about speed when it came down to it. The scythes chain was wrapped around Gentra's neck and arms ending with the blade wedged against her throat and, conversely, Ceyla now had three lances with their tips pressed against hers. They were baroque lengths of sharpened metal, a design seemingly lifted from a piece of ornate fencing, but they were harsh and angular enough to lose any air of uselessness. Gentra had the balanced perfectly between her two hands. This all appeared instantly, with little but a few wisps of smoke and the momentary sound of metal scraping on metal had betrayed any movement whatsoever. Both women were panting profusely as there bodies registered their unhappiness at being forced to move at such speed but Gentra was clearly the more composed of the two.

"Huh…I see you know that technique too." Gentra hissed through her teeth "Not…bad."

"We had the same teacher, remember?" Ceyla gripped the scythes shaft hard as she leaned just enough to talk.

"So where do you plan to go with this? Don't think I won't kill you if you give me the chance." Gentra began t sweat ever so slightly, but was trumped by Ceyla's own rapid perspiration.

"Don't worry. My father's blood runs through my veins. Our family has a habit of worming out of these situations, wouldn't you agree?" Gentra began laughing uncontrollably, a grating pitch which could only be described as a series of disjointed 'Hi's'. It was a bad sound to hear, but it alleviated the tension slightly. But very little could have made it any better anyway. Silence followed for a while, each remaining in their stance unflinching.

"That's it." Gentra sighed and, with a sudden slow finality, collapsed into a pillar of water. A second Gentra trotted out from behind another piece of rubble, clapping half heartedly. Despite reaching an end to the bloody impasse Ceyla still looked quite irate.

It wasn't much of a surprise that no-one bothered to douse the corpse in any way. It was an unimportant detail that detracted from the dramatic tension of the moment.


	4. Chapter 4: Justification

"_Tsu-Tsukiko! Don't!"_

_Levine's words were lost amid a cacophony of noise as the courtyards residents for the morning, a flock of decrepit grey doves, took flight at the sudden busyness of the scene. They were mangy beasts, worn down by the mist like everything else, but in Tsukiko's mind they were more than enough to provide dramatism to the tableau. It was all a matter of shoving the word epic into just the right slot in a paragraph and the scene was as powerful as a final farewell on a sun soaked Cliffside. To be fair this too would contain a final farewell of sorts. Tsukiko was positioned over the prone figure of a middle aged man, one eye covered in black cloth but otherwise dressed in the outfit of a chuunin from the Village of Kumogakurne. A lean figure he wore a scraggly beard as a soft defiance from his reddened complexion. Tsukiko had him pinned underneath a web of dull blue chains, their temperature spawning a slightly lighter addition to the already volumous morning mists. She stood to the left of his head, one leg raised so as to almost be touching her shoulder, an impressive feat considering what was there to provide it with extra weight. The blade glistened with malicious intent, translucent melodies played through the ministrations of soft dawn light._

"_This is what he deserves, Kerberos." Tsukiko retained her expression, manic joy at the situation coupled with a burst of undirected energy leading to her stretching a smile and a wide eyed gaze as far as possible. Somehow, she managed to twitch without moving her stiff right leg. "He wanted to steal me away. We don't want that do we?" _

"_But…You can't kill him Tsukiko! That's not something we should want to do!" Tears, for once legitimate, welled in Levine's eyes. This was something cemented into her psyche. She couldn't let Tsukiko do this. More than the killing, she hated the idea of Tsukiko acting this way towards anyone._

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"What happened after that, hmm?" The Mizukage was an unimpressive looking man. His white robes of office did little to brighten a figure dulled by years of stagnation. If anything the Mizukage represented perfectly the changes in the village, a body bred upon action and blood forced into a state of docility and worn down because of it. He had an impassive look about him, of someone too bored in the conversation to fake an interest.

"Miss Kitsuraiga threw her robe in my face and left" Gentra spoke with fatigued tones as ever, staring out the window at what little the mist did not obscure. Everything was ragged and decayed anyway "Tsukiko and Levine did the same. I worry about the relationship those two have-"

"It is not your concern. Tsukiko keeps Susa-" The mizukages eyes gleamed just a little as he corrected himself. Gentra could take a hint by this point in her life and noted the little fragment into her mind. "Slip of the tongue there. At any rate, one keeps the other under control. It works. We need…loyal soldiers, especially now. The news these days is indeed quite frightful. Every village has its own stake in a secretive war these days it would seem." The Mizukage had milky blue eyes, though this did not reflect on his ability to see. He gazed out the window from his desk, unblinking.

"We've had enough wars." Gentra scowled a little "We are involved, technically anyway."

"While fearsome renegades are helpful, in a way, for our villages reputation they are not profitable. Perhaps they will all end up casualties, forgotten in the face of greater foes. There is little doubt that we will need to add our own to the fight one day…"

"Little doubt? What stake do we have in these squabbles over the tailed beasts? You don't honestly plan to make it a proving ground for those two do you?"

The Mizukage took a more imploring tone "I'm not that foolish yet, Gentra. This is a chance to take advantage of a situation while avoiding all consequences for doing so. If they want to believe in a man behind the curtain so much then let them see our actions as theirs and act accordingly."

Silence filled the gap in the conversation this spawned. To Gentra the glory of success and the intricacies of espionage paled in comparison to the fact that it would mean more work for her. Missions like this always ended up that way.

"…Tell me, Gentra, what happened to Ceyla's coat?" The mizukage began rapping on his desk, clearly among the wrong company to be lost in grandeur

"Levine set it on fire while I wasn't looking."

"That coat was a gift from the Hokage. I suppose time must take its due course but still…" The Mizukage did not sound disappointed at this revelation in the least.

"I swear she was spouting poetry while she did it too. I do NOT look forward to teaching something like that. It's just so obvious she's damaged."

"I assure you that La'fens is perfectly fine mentally. Obedient as well.

"That's the problem. Her behavior indicates loyalty to Tsukiko over any other authority figure."

"You will move past that in time, no doubt. I have great faith in your abilities."

"Of course, sir." Gentra said, voice dripping in sarcasm. It had been a long time since the Mizukage had done anything worthy of respect. "Time made all the longer by your inclusion of Ceyla. An average child by all accounts bar her judgmental nature. She will complicate the training process with her cockiness."

"Don't underestimate her resolve to learn. She just has her own problems to deal with. Act impartial and wait for the Chuunin exams. "

"And what will that change?"

"Everything no doubt. I remember when you were a genin you were always complaining about being partnered with Zabuza, always saying how much you hated it because he was younger than you." A series of low chuckling, like the clogged sputtering of dying machinery, emanated from the Mizukage, causing Gentra to shoot him a scowl. In the distance a bell chimed the hour as it usual did. Time kept on slipping…

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"_We are Shinobi, Kerberos. We have to kill to survive. If our bread is buttered with blood then we must learn to love the taste or starve." She leaned in close to the chuunin, eyes gleaming with nothing but barely restrained malice "That's what this was about, wasn't it? My blood? How, in my veins, runs a dead clans curse? Can't you just feel it pulsing, just inches away from your face?" Sudden fear chased down the misery rising in Levine's spine, ripping into everything and leaving her immobile, unable to speak or resist. Every part of her brain not paralyzed was dedicated with what, to her, was the most important thought to have. Remember, this is not Tsukiko. This is not that thing which you love, but something entirely different. DO NOT BE FOOLED._

_Tired of being insulted by a sixteen year old girl of minor stature, even with his major disadvantage the Kumogakurne Ninja spit in Tsukiko's eye. It was an impressively accurate shot, but the girl was unphased._

"_You ignorant little bitch!" His voice grated on the nerves, a gravelly tone betraying the speakers undoubtedly harsh experiences in life. "Do you think you can just get away with this? Do you actually think you are capable of killing me? If you think you can hide away here while you stall for a little backbone to emerge, you're forgetting that something like this wouldn't be a solo mission. So go get a grownup before you get hurt, 'kay?" Everything about his demeanor, sans physical position, screamed patronization and, against all odds, he managed a self satisfied smirk. Tsukiko suddenly lost her grin and began slowly lowering her leg._

"_That's right, now-"_

"_-I'd forgotten about the other two." Her hand reached into her jacket, shaking slightly._

"_-I'm not surprised now-"_

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Above the office, Ceyla sat on the roof, her black banded outfit revealing navy blues and subtle ember red patterns on her attire, flowers weaving poetry across her body. The distant lights of the village illuminated the sky giving the sunset an extra reflected tinge. It was good to look above the mist once in a while. As always her thoughts turned to that one night, looking above her at that length of metal seemingly stretched on for ever. It was not a bad memory anymore. It was justification. Her own scythe lay uncoiled around her on the roof. It had felt uncomfortable to leave it behind. Ceyla ran the events of the day though her head again, enraged at her lack of control in the situation. Then she had a thought, about something she had heard somewhere. Lightheaded and furious, Ceyla thought of gods.

Eventually, one thought back. It was…convenient.

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_Tsukiko's hand returned with two bloodied headbands, the dull red sheen betraying the symbol of Kumogakurne. She brought one to her mouth and lapped up the almost dry plasma with a look of sheer bliss on her face, the light highlighting her teeth as they were stained with red. The chuunin gasped for words. Levine bit her arm as she tuned away, the tears flowing freely as purple welts appeared on the bone white skin. She was now repeating the thought like a mantra, over and over again, though muffled by her skin and, now, blood "Its not Tsukiko, Its not Tsukiko, Its NOT TSUKIKO…"_

"_It's a shame really. Such bland flavor. It's worthless." The grin returned, this time highlighting her particularly sharp incisors "I wonder, shall I tell you a secret? Did you know that while you three were bumbling around my home waiting for me to go to sleep, I was surveying this exact spot? You would be surprised how much foot traffic it should be getting right now." Suddenly shapes in the mist became very human, very fast, when seconds ago they had been minor blemishes occupying the chuunin's peripherals. This was, after all, promising to be a good show and the people of the village were not ones to pass up free entertainment. By this point Levine had collapsed to her knees, unable to stand with the effort being concentrated on forcefully editing the scene from her mind._

"_Your friends simply happened to be too concentrated on one thing at a bad time" One source of blood exhausted, Tsukiko switched to the other headband "Of course; you had the gall to actually enter my room. I'm surprised a cowardly piece of shit like you could even do it. But I don't have a reputation yet. That's something that this is supposed to change. Do you get it yet? This is a public execution!" Tsukiko leaned in closer still until she was face to face with her captive "Do me a favor" her whisper sounded feverish, like a woman on the sharp edge of a particularly nasty addiction "Try not to taste too much like piss, you worthless son of a bitch 'kay?"_

_The leg was raised again, then dropped, a soft silken sound precluding an vast null point, a thick, heady silence spreading from the point where the blade hit the mans neck, until a final slight grating signified it had gone through to the stone tiles. It took more time than you would think, though Tsukiko always made a clean cut, with a beautiful finality to the act of execution. It was a brutal assault on the senses to watch but to her it was an almost divine experience._

_His body eventually realized what was going on and spurted blood furiously from the wound, further staining Tsukiko's white outfit and managing to hit Levine square in the face. She sobbed once, but then returned to silence as Tsukiko calmly padded over to her, hefted her over her shoulder and carried her back to their apartment. The crowd had dispersed quickly once the entertainment was over._

_The mist gained a red tint for a few hours. To some it was an overdue comfort. _

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Levine stared at the moon in search of the voice. It wasn't that it was necessary for anything but it gave her an excuse. Justification was everything and It was a full moon, so the voice should be angry. Tsukiko slept beside her, collapsed onto the bed after a hearty meal. Levine brushed her hair with her hand absent mindedly, as it was something she felt needed to be done.

Perhaps Tsukiko was justification enough.


End file.
